


no kinder sign of love

by ajkal2



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Brooklyn, Coming Out, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, kid crushes, not between our boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 21:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14198496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajkal2/pseuds/ajkal2
Summary: Bucky Barnes is a smooth-talking charmer, Brooklyn's sweetheart, the name on everyones lips. He's happy with that, thrilled. He likes dames, loves them. He couldn't do anything else.Right?alternate titles:> The Great Gay Crisis Of 1938.> Internalised Homophobia: The Constant Struggle.> Bucky? Gay? It’s More Likely Than He Thinks.





	no kinder sign of love

Bucky was seven years old when he first kissed a girl. Her name was Madeline White, and she was in the same class as him for English. He and Steve always sat in the centre of the room, at the front. The teachers wanted to keep an eye on Steve, so they put him at the front, and then Bucky sat next to Steve. Madeline White sat by the window, so she got scolded for daydreaming a lot. She’d nod, and look all sorry, then get right on back to daydreaming soon as the teacher turned round.  
  
Bucky asked her out to a picture, because she was the prettiest girl in the year. Her hair was brown, and long, and shiny, and she fiddled with it a lot. Her eyes were brown as well. He told her they looked like melted chocolate, because gentlemen are meant to give pretty girls compliments. She’d blushed, and got all smiley, and Bucky was pleased. The whole rest of the time they were together, she kept on giving him little smiles, and he would give her bigger ones, and then her smile would get bigger, and it was nice.  
  
He walked her home from the picture, but she lingered at the door. She looked at him through her eyelashes, brushed her hair behind her ear. Bucky stepped a little closer. This was it. His throat was all clenched up. He put on a smile. It was still afternoon, broad daylight, and that struck him as wrong, somehow. Shouldn’t first kisses be all dark, dramatic, like the pictures? Her eyes flickered down to his lips, then back up, and she smiled too. He took a deep breath, and kissed her goodbye.  
  
Later on, Bucky lay on Steve’s bed, glum over nothing.  
  
“I ‘unno, s’ just… Felt like it would be bigger.” Bucky licked his lips. They were tingling, a little. “She’s nice. I like her. Just...”  
  
Steve brushed at his paper, frowning at it. Probably couldn’t get the shading right. He tilted his head at the page, shifted it into the light. “Just what?”  
  
“Dunno.” Bucky frowned.  
  
Steve rolled his eyes. “Well what was it like, genius?”  
  
Bucky considered. “Squishy.” He pushed up onto his hands, made a face at Steve’s snort. “Kinda weird. I was all panicky.”  
  
“So it ain’t True Love’s Kiss or anything?” Steve rested his pencil on the page, but didn’t move it.  
  
“Nah,” Bucky said, “And screw you, far as you know I am a genius. I got top marks in Math.”  
  
“Sure you did.”  
  
“Get back to scribbling, punk.”  
  
He went on a handful more dates with Madeline White, but it petered out pretty quick. Turns out her Da wasn’t so keen on his little angel dating a mongrel like him. It all came to a head when he turned up half an hour late to take her out. Steve tried to apologise, but he was still wheezing pretty hard from the fight, so it came out wrong. Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes and dragged Steve to the show instead.  
  
After Madeline White there was Sally Fletcher, who had dirty blonde hair and a sharp tongue and had dated all the boys in the year, and then there was Gertrude Peters, who wasn’t the thinnest but could dance like the devil and then there was...  
  
There were quite a few girls. By the time he had his first job, Bucky could wear charm like a fancy perfume. He oozed it, making the dames sigh at crooked smiles and casual touches and a brush of his lips against the back of a hand  
  
He could go through the motions, kissing and touching, stroking and moaning, and it felt good. It was nice. The dames loved it, loved him, and he loved them ba…  
  
He liked them b…  
  
He.  
  
Bucky tried not to think about it. He was doing everything right, wasn’t he? No use complaining about making time with a beautiful lady. It’s every guy’s dreams come true. Well, every normal guy. And he was normal.  
  
Bucky worked at the docks. He wasn’t a babe in arms, he knew how the world worked. He’d seen them on the street corners, the men who didn’t act like men. He didn’t have a problem with it or anything, didn’t make any of the jokes the others bandied about. It was like Steve said. You shouldn’t pick on folks because of things they can’t change. He tensed when he heard the words, ‘fruit’ or ‘queer’ or ‘fairy’. He laughed when all the other men laughed, but the sound was brittle, came out wrong for some reason.  
  
He didn’t think about it. One day, he’d find the right girl. It’d be just like in the pictures, all fireworks and rose petals, and she’d have a friend short enough for Steve, and everything would be fine. Just needed to find the right girl.  
  
He reached the front of the queue, collecting his wages with a smile and a wink for Delilah behind the desk. The sun was just touching the horizon, making all the shadows of the shipyard go funny and long. Bucky tucked the envelope into his pocket, trudging along the familiar route home.  
  
He heard the yelp from the street, the scuffle of shoes against cobbles. Bucky’s steps slowed, hands coming out of his pockets. He listened.  
  
“Get off, I told you-” Aw shit, that was probably Steve. The tone was weird though, panicked like he’d never heard Steve, and Bucky picked up the pace.  
  
“C’mon fairy, I’ve seen you, down at the bars, you’re asking for it-” Crooning, a hint of laughter in the words. Bucky’s lip curled.  
  
“I ain’t asking for anythin-Get off!” That was more than panicked, that was desperate, and if it was Steve-  
  
Bucky skidded round the corner. A dark figure crowded another against a wall, close like two lovers. Except the smaller one was struggling, pushing the big guy away. Bucky’s heart rate spiked.  
  
“Hey, you slimy git!” he yelled, striding closer.  
  
The larger figure turned, bared teeth flashing from the shadows. “Mind your own, filthy-”  
  
Then Bucky was on him, fist arcing for his chin, but he jerked out of the way, grabbing at Bucky’s arm, tugging Bucky in. Bucky went with the motion, going for a headlock.  
  
The angle was wrong, and Bucky slipped, and the larger man straightened up with a bellow, almost lifting him off the ground. He let go, dancing backwards. The larger man swung, fist like a hammer, but Bucky ducked the move, darting back in with his left arm. Something crunched under his fist, and the big guy howled, right arm swiping back to clobber Bucky’s shoulder. He ducked, stumbling from the force of the blow, but kept his feet, right fist jabbing hard into the big guy’s solar plexus.  
  
Now it was the other guy’s turn to stumble, hunching over, blood streaming from his nose.  Bucky bared his teeth, eyes wild.  
  
“Run,” he snarled, packing menace into the word, but it was the wrong move. The big guy just growled back, straightening up, and Bucky rose onto his toes, fists up.  
  
Then there was a solid, meaty thud, and the big guy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He toppled forward, crashing to the ground. Bucky blinked. Steve spat blood onto the floor, clutching something- a half-brick? Hell.  
  
“You alright?” Bucky asked, straightening. He lifted a hand, trying to block the sunlight and get a better look.  
  
“M’ fine,” Steve grumbled, but his eyes were locked on the guy on the floor, and- shit, was he shaking? Steve was clutching the half-brick. He stepped back toward the entrance of the alley, light cutting across him, hiding his face. Tremors ran down his shoulders, jittering in his forearms.  
  
Bucky squinted. Steve was looking at him like… Jesus, like he was gonna pick up where the lout on the floor had left off.  Bucky could still feel the adrenaline of the fight, that rush of clarity drumming in his veins, but he slowed down, pitched his voice low.  
  
“Hey. Hey, Stevie, ‘s just me.” He reached out, rested his arm along Steve’s shoulders. Steve’s breath shuddered against his collarbone, and for a moment his weight slumped into Bucky’s side. “Let’s get back home, yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” and Steve stood, tugging his shirt straight. One of his buttons was gone, probably popped off in the fight. He didn’t look at Bucky, eyes fixed on his shoes, then setting onto the entrance of the alley, jaw set, and Bucky has to scramble to keep up.  
  
Their apartment is a ten-minute walk away, and they don’t talk. Bucky keeps on stealing glances, cataloguing at the way Steve’s shoulders are hunched, the depth of his scowl.  
  
What had Steve been doing, down by the docks, alone?  
  
Bucky didn’t think about it. He watched Steve, noticed the hesitation in his step that meant bruised ribs, the slight discoloration by his nose that would bloom into a black eye.  
  
They plodded up the stairs, and they still didn’t talk. They walked into their apartment, and they still didn’t talk. Bucky took off his coat, put his wages into the sock drawer, fetched the battered tin of bandages. He walked out into the living room, and Steve was still silhouetted in the doorway, standing  like a stormcloud. And neither of them had said a word.  
  
Bucky sighed and dragged Steve into a chair, leaning against the table.  
  
“For fucks sake, say something, Buck,” Steve said, finally, blue eyes flashing up to bore into Bucky’s.  
  
“Say what?”  
  
Steve threw up his hands. “I don’t know! You hate me! You’re kicking me out! You-”  
  
“Hey, woah,” Bucky held up his hands, leaning back. “Why would I hate you?”  
  
“Because-” Steve looked at him like he was being a dope. Steve’s voice lowered to a hiss. “I didn’t tell you.”  
  
Bucky felt like he was being a dope. “Tell me what?”  
  
Steve made a frustrated sound. He took a few shallow breaths, because if he breathed deep it would trigger his asthma. “That I’m queer.”  
  
“Wha- No you’re not.” Bucky’s nose scrunched up, hands pausing in opening the bruise ointment.  
  
Steve stared at him, dumbstruck. Bucky’s hands found movement again, the back of one flitting towards Steve’s forehead.  
  
“I don’t have a damn fever, jerk!” Steve hissed, leaning away. “Check yourself, for crying out loud.”  
  
Bucky pawed at the ointment tin, fumbling the lid. “Stevie, queers are- You’re not-”  
  
Steve leant forward again, eyes flashing. “Buck.”  
  
“Just because you’re on the small side don’t mean-” Damn tin wouldn’t open, kept slipping in his hands.  
  
“Buck.” Bucky swallowed.  His throat was dry, and he swallowed again, clutching onto the stupid tin. “Look at me.” Steve bit off the sentence. His hand grabbed at Bucky’s chin, nudging his head up.  
  
Steve had that tension in his neck, like when he was trying not to show how much he cared. His eyes glinted bright blue in the low light, dark shadows emphasizing his jawline. Bucky closed his mouth, licked his lips.  
  
He couldn’t think about that, he didn’t think like that, he was normal, he wasn’t-  
  
“I’m queer,” Steve said, jaw tilting up. He’d always been braver than Bucky. “You got a problem with that, James Buchanan Barnes?”  
  
“No,” Bucky blurted.  
  
“Well then what’s your damn problem, Buck, ‘cause you’ve been fiddling with that damn ointment for five minutes,” Steve snapped, arms crossing over his chest.  
  
Aw shit. “Look, Stevie, it ain’t you, alright?” Bucky said, gaze dropping back to his lap. Push and twist, and the tin popped open. “You’re- You’re queer, fine, great.” Bucky stared at the thick white cream. “Guess I never thought about it before. Just wrapping my head around the whole thing, that’s all.”  
  
“You never thought- Jeez, Buck, how dense are you?” Steve said, but his tone relaxed a little. Bucky blinked at the ointment, dipping his finger in.  
  
“Shuddup, punk.” Bucky put the tin to one side. “Let me get some of this on that eyesore you call a face.” Bucky smeared the ointment across Steve’s purpling eye, rubbing it in with small circles.  
  
Steve’s eyelashes fluttered against his fingers. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. His eyes flickered down, to Steve’s chapped lips, but he dragged his gaze back up. He shouldn’t be thinking- He wasn’t-  
  
“How’re the ribs?” Bucky made himself ask.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Bucky wiped his hand off on his trouser-leg, arching his eyebrows. “Sure they are. Strip, c’mon.”  
  
Steve scowled at him, but shouldered out of his coat, unbuttoning his shirt. Bucky knew how to do this. He’d patched Steve up hundreds of times. This was no different.  
  
Steve spread his arms, shirtless, and Bucky forced his eyes onto the bruises. More ointment. Steve’s skin was dry, rough against his fingers. Steve hissed, and Bucky gentled his touch even more, muttering an apology.  
  
Bucky focused on the task, on the color of the bruises. He didn’t think about running his hands lower over Steve’s skin, grabbing his narrow hips. He didn’t think about leaning in, pressing a kiss underneath Steve’s ribs. He didn’t think about how it would taste, the tangy sweat and iron blood and sharp ointment. He didn’t think about moving his head higher, licking across Steve’s chest and collarbones and neck and-  
  
Bucky realised the ointment had long gone, and he was just rubbing Steve’s narrow chest. He snatched his hand away, jerking upright. Steve’s eyes flicked open, and Bucky didn’t look at his lips.  
  
Except- except that Bucky did look at Steve’s lips. They were chapped, sore. It was the winter cold, the wind. The color of them, that hint of red in the low light- Bucky’s eyes slowly rose up, and he met Steve’s gaze, and Steve’s beautiful lips twisted, formed words.  
  
“I’m not going to try anything, you jerk.” he spat, and Bucky’s heart spasmed in his chest. “Stop looking at me like I’m a wild fucking animal, I’d never do anything with anyone who didn’t want it too-”  
  
“What if I want it too?” Bucky’s mouth said on it’s own. Steve stopped, frozen mid-rant. They stared at each other.  
  
Steve blinked, leant forward. “Buck, don’t joke-”  
  
“I ain’t joking,” Bucky whispered. “I...” He could feel his pupils dilating. His hand, snatched to his chest, rose and fell with the speed of his breathing. “I want…”  
  
He wasn’t queer, he liked girls, he had fun with them he wanted them-  
  
But.  
  
But that wasn’t true. That wasn’t- real, it was nothing like- Like this. This want.  
  
Bucky stared at Steve’s lips, heart thundering like a rabbit’s, and his world locked into place.  
  
“Can I?” Bucky blurted, and Steve laughed, scrubbing his face with his hands.  
  
“This can’t be real.” Steve said, grasping at his hair. “Do you have any idea how long- How-”  
  
“Steve,” Bucky said, and he reached out, hands fitting over Steve’s. His voice softened. “Stevie. Can I?”  
  
“Can you what?” Steve spat, pleading with his eyes.  
  
Bucky swallowed, again, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Steve’s gaze darted down to the movement. Bucky gathered his courage, rubbing his thumb against Steve’s hand. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered.    
  
Steve let go of his hair, and Bucky drew their hands down to hang between them. Steve’s adam’s apple moved, bobbing along his throat as he swallowed. “OK,” Steve whispered back, and Bucky surged forward, and then they were kissing.  
  
Their teeth clacked together, and Bucky pulled back a little, but not too far, because _Jesus_ . Steve’s lips were soft, and warm, and this was what it was meant to be like, this was the fireworks and the rose petals and-  
  
Bucky tilted his head, pressing in closer, and Steve sighed into his mouth. There was nothing else, nothing except the soft, warm pressure of Steve’s lips against his. Bucky started smiling so damn wide he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Steve’s.  
  
“Jesus, Buck,” Steve muttered, lips brushing Bucky’s. “Can I?”  
  
“Of course,” Bucky murmured back. “Anything. Of course.” His heart had settled, and it was Steve’s, everything was Steve’s, he’d been so blind, everything that was his he’d give in a second, it was Steve’s-  
  
Steve smiled, grinned, and his clever hands tangled in Bucky’s hair, and Bucky’s head tilted back, and he was lost to those hands, those eyes, those lips.  
  
Later, hours later, Bucky woke up with the sun in his eyes and a patch of drool on his shoulder and blonde hair tickling his chin. He blinked, stifling a yawn, and let himself think about it.  
  
He remembered the hundreds of dates he’d cut short to drag Steve out of an alley. He counted the countless crooked smiles he’d sent at Steve. Pondered the casual touches, their sides pressing together, their hands brushing backs, Bucky's arm around Steve's shoulders. Since they were kids, they’d been- touching. Trusting each other, in that homegrown, quiet way. He remembered, and his memories gained a new dimension. Something else, something more, something secret. Hidden, but still there. Still... real.  
  
Steve snorted in his sleep, thigh shifting. His ankle was hooked around Bucky’s leg. Bucky pressed his nose against the hard curve of Steve’s skull, breathing in the smell of him. Skin, and sweat, and a hint of turpentine. Bucky could recognise that smell anywhere. He couldn’t remember ever learning what Steve smelt like when he was sleeping, but- he knew. He knew.  
  
How long had he known? How long- how many years...  
  
He’d been blind. He’d been- scared. The old, familiar fear clawed up his throat, and he screwed his eyes shut from the weight of it. He’d never realised he was so scared. The guys from the shipyards, his friends, they’d turn on him in an instant if they knew. If they guessed.  
  
Steve had thought Bucky would turn on him. Bucky was his best friend in the world, and last night Steve had stared at Bucky with fear in his eyes and a half-brick clutched in his fingers, ready to be hated.  
  
Bucky’s arm tightened around Steve’s waist. He didn’t hate Steve. He couldn’t, it just… it wouldn’t work. Steve frowned, yawning into his chest.  
  
“Stop thinking so loud,” he said, words slurred with sleep. One of his arms lifted off Bucky’s back, flopping onto Bucky’s face. “It’s too early for thinking.”  
  
“Sorry,” Bucky said. “Usually you’re the one up before the sun.”  
  
“Urgh,” Steve lifted his head off Bucky’s chest, almost headbutting him. “Tell me what’s got you all muddled up, then we can go back to sleep.” he grumbled.  
  
“It’s nothing-”  
  
“Bull.” Steve frowned, hair going in all different directions, nose all scrunched up.  
  
Bucky reached up, fingers tracing the creases. Steve tilted his face into the touch, relaxing. “Are we gonna do this?” Bucky said.  
  
“Do what?” Steve rubbed at his eyes.  
  
Bucky brushed his thumb against Steve’s bottom lip in answer, pressing gently.  
  
“Oh.” Steve blinked, pupils dilating. “I’d like to,”  
  
“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, moving his thumb to brush along Steve’s cheekbone. “Me too.”  
  
Steve wriggled closer, tucking his head back under Bucky’s chin. “That should be the end of it.”  
  
“But it’s not,” Bucky said, raking his fingers over Steve’s hair as an apology. “We’re gonna have to hide. Pretend everything’s normal.”  
  
Steve shrugged. “Not all the time.”  
  
Bucky hummed. He ran his hand down over Steve’s shoulders, the warm skin of his back. “I’m gonna have to keep chasing skirts,” he said, hating even the idea.  
  
“Urgh.” Steve’s arms tightened around Bucky’s back, possessive. “But not for real, right?”  
  
“It was never for real,” Bucky admitted, and it was easy to say, here. “Didn’t see how hollow it all was, but- it was.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah.” Bucky leant back, met Steve’s eyes. The blue swallowed him up again, and he smiled. How had he missed it, for so long?  
  
“Huh.” Steve smiled a little to himself, propping his chin on Bucky. He looked like the cat that’d got the cream, and Bucky guessed it was true. The cat that got the cream, after years of the cream being too damn stupid to let the poor kitty lap it all up.  
  
“Sorry you had to wait,” Bucky mumbled, head flopping back onto the pillow.  
  
“Well,” Steve said, smile in his voice, “I always was the smart one-”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“-so it makes sense I worked it all out first.” Steve’s eyes crinkled, smile widening, then Bucky tipped them over so he was on top.  
  
“You calling me stupid, punk?” Bucky teased, forearms resting either side of Steve’s chest, holding himself up.  
  
“Yes,” Steve decided, bumping the tip of his nose into Bucky’s, grinning like a loon. “What a dumbass, honestly, it’s a miracle you’re still walking about-”  
  
“Hey,” Bucky stuck out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, and Steve laughed at him. “Don’t talk about your fella like that, he could take it the wrong way.”  
  
“My fella, huh?” Steve raised his eyebrows, struggling to keep a poker face, but smiling so wide it broke through. “I like the sound of that.”  
  
Bucky leant down, lips brushing against the corner of Steve’s grin. “So do I.”  
  
Steve tipped his head up and they were kissing again, lips sliding across each other. Bucky marvelled at the sensation. Kissing was different when you weren’t faking. It was nicer. Bucky pushed back against Steve’s mouth. It was a lot nicer. Bucky didn't need to pretend, not here. They were hidden. They were safe. Bucky could forget about the rest of the world, and who cared about them anyway? Bucky had Steve. Everything made sense.  
  
Bucky Barnes kissed a man for the first time when he was twenty years old, and the world tumbled into place, and everything made sense.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!
> 
> these boys. honestly. they are both such dolts. hope u enjoyed reading about these dorks, leave a comment and tell me what u think! ive been trying some new stuff, style-wise, and i hope it paid off.


End file.
